


Moonlight

by InvaluableOracle



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Transgender Parent, Unplanned Pregnancy, ftm character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2018-12-26 09:04:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12055710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InvaluableOracle/pseuds/InvaluableOracle
Summary: Days after Kon's funeral, Tim finds something he left behind.It's a pretty important thing, if you ask Tim.





	1. the beginning

**Author's Note:**

> lmao if you subscribe to this be warned that i have NO fucking idea when i'm gonna update this tbh,,,

* * *

It's July 4. Kon's "activation day". He didn't actually know what day he had come out of the cloning tube, but that was the day he had chosen, so that was the day we celebrated.

Anyway, it's July 4. and I'm sitting up in a hospital bed, exhausted and sweaty. In my arms is a tiny bundle of blankets. They're standard hospital-issue, white cotton with the pink and blue stripes.

Getting off topic again. The blankets aren't the important thing here. What's in them is- the tiny bundle of flesh, bone, and afterbirth gunk I have just spent forty-five hours forcing out of my body.

She's breathing and seems content for now, leaving me to sit and admire the little curves of her cheeks and nose (his nose, of course,) her full head of thick, dark hair- it's funny, the books said she wouldn't have any, let alone this much. Her eyes are closed, leaving me wondering what color they are- Kon's bright, joyful blue, or my cold blue-grey?

A few more minutes have passed, simply watching her breathe and wiggle within her blankets. Everything is fine, but I feel like I've forgotten something-

A name.  
I never came up with a name for her. Never even thought about it. What kind of parent does that make me? I can't just call her 'Baby' or 'Unborn Child' or 'Stop Kicking And Let Me Sleep, You Little Pain In The Ass' on her birth certificate.

What's a good girl name, anyways? Cassandra?  
(Nope, not thinking about that.) Stephanie?  
(Double nope.)  
Martha?  
(Not touching that with a ten foot pole!)  
Janet... could be a middle name, but not a first. Definitely not a first name. Too many memories involved with that.  
So she has a middle name. Something Janet.  
I can't decide, so I ask the baby, "What do you think? Is 'Something' a good name for you?"

She doesn't respond. Of course. Because she's a baby. Why am I asking a newborn for advice? Who knows. But I get enough of a response because her face gets all scrunched up, whimpering and tensed to start crying at any second.

Oh no. I try to bounce and rock her like they do in the movies, but now the crying is really starting, high pitched and grating on my ears. Oh god, I'm not ready for this. I shush her, but it only seems to irritate her more. "I don't know what you want, I'm sorry! Please stop crying!"

A nurse comes in and I'm not sure which is more embarrassing, the fact that don't have a clue about getting her to stop crying or that someone is here to witness it.

"Is everything alright?"  
"I- I..." I can't decide whether I should swallow my pride and ask for help, or just send the nurse away- but now the still unnamed baby is still wriggling towards my chest and screeching and-

Oh.  
Oh. _That's_ what she wants.

The nurse, to her credit, doesn't laugh at or criticize my failure. Instead she holds up a bottle and tells me how to feed my child, showing me the angle to tip it at so she won't get too gassy.

Nurses. Underestimated, underpaid, wonderful saints of the medical world. I have never held as much faith in a medical professional as this woman who is carrying me through the steps of feeding a baby.

A few minutes later, she's sucked down the entire bottle (Kon's appetite for sure) and has burped, so I settle her back down in my arms just as she opens her eyes.

Blue. Sparkling, bright, happy blues, so familiar that looking into them feels like home.

Just like...  
Before I even know what's happening, I'm cradling my newborn and sobbing. I don't quite know why I'm crying- it could be a lot of things.

Maybe it’s the fact that she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, or fact that none of my estranged family even knows that she exists. That she'll never meet her other father, her uncles and aunts, or her grandfathers. It could even be the fact that I've just given birth, alone, to the child of a dead half-Kryptonian, at the age of seventeen.

I can't go home to Gotham. Not to them. I disappeared seven months ago when I found out I was pregnant. Can't just randomly waltz back into a family of vigilantes and announce "I'm back!" without any questions.

Then there's the issue of the baby herself- who, I remember as I force myself to stop crying, still doesn’t have a name.

Janet… what’s a good first name to go with that? She grabs my finger with her entire little hand as her eyes begin to shut.

Then I think of something.  
It was a name I had thought of, very early on, but I’m unsure.

As I test it, it flows off the tongue easily enough. In fact, it sounds… good. Like a name that fits.

As her eyes flutter again, fighting sleep, I smile. “Hi, Luna.”

Luna. Luna Janet. Luna Janet Drake.

I sigh and look at her again. She seems to actually be content this time, and the magnitude of it all hits me like a train.

This is happening.  
I’m a parent. I’m a parent and I’m all alone, having abandoned my teammates and remaining family members for this.

* * *

We leave the hospital the next day. Luna is wrapped in a clean blanket in my arms and as a nurse wheels me towards the elevators (I don't need a wheelchair, but hospital policies insist.) I rub the edge of the soft green blanket between my fingers and peek at the onesie she's wearing. Black, with a familiar red logo on the front. I can't see the logo right now, but I know by memory that it's there.

* * *

Just looking, because there’s no way I’m actually pregnant _, he tells himself. He stumbles into the store anxiously, and everything hits him at once._

_The factory-like smells of fabric and plastic and baby powder. The mothers shushing their screeching babies. It hurts his ears, and he barely catches himself from covering them. The way the store seems to be divided by gender down the middle. He stares at the tiny, frilly tutus and dresses and walls of pink and purple._

_He turns the other way, towards the red and blue and tiny cargo pants and shirts with dumb things like "Ladies Man" written on them and patterned with trucks and dinosaurs._

_He thinks to himself,_ It's all so heteronormative. But I'm not buying anything, so I guess it doesn't matter.

 _He tells himself he isn't buying anything, but he browses anyways. There are multitudes of tiny clothing pieces here- some over the top, like a little three-piece suit (_ Good luck getting a newborn into that. _) Some are so understated and tiny (_ Must be for premature babies _) that he doesn't notice them at first._

_Suddenly he sees it.  
The rows upon rows of superhero merchandise- Batman, of course, because it's Gotham, and so many others. Superman. Wonder Woman. He chuckles at the Red Hood one, screen printed to look like a leather jacket sits on top of it. There's even a tiny Robin onesie that comes with an eye mask and a cape. (He takes that one off the shelf first.) He keeps walking with it in his hand and- there. At the very end of the row._

_He leaves the store with just two onesies in hand, both superhero themed- Robin and Superboy- and a pastel green blanket. It seems fitting.  
_

* * *

 By the time I snap out of the memory we are in the elevator, on the way to the parking garage. Luna is awake and seems to be fascinated with the lights in the elevator. She's sucking contentedly on the pacifier in her mouth, her chubby cheeks moving in and out as she stares at the ceiling. Her tiny pink hat jostles as we leave the elevator.

I shift my arm to readjust it when a flash goes off in our faces, startling the newborn to tears.

I look up to glare at whoever is already taking pictures and sigh.

Of course it's Vicki Vale. I'm not even in Gotham- how did she find me? Did she follow me all the way across the country? Oh god, Gotham. The others. They can't know why I left!

Luna has spat out the pacifier and begun to wail, honing Vicki’s attention. “Is the baby yours? Aren't you yourself only seventeen? Is this why no one has seen you in Gotham for the past several months? What is its name? Who is its father?” How- Phil, get _over_ here!” She gestures for her cameraman but I'm faster, shielding my newborn’s face before she can be revealed on video.

“No comment. And don't ever refer to my child as an ‘it’ again.”

The nurse, who I've admittedly forgotten about by this point, is glaring daggers at the reporters and speaks up over the noise of Luna’s frightened cries. “I'm gonna have to ask you to leave.”

“Listen, lady, do you know who I am? I need this story-”

“I don't particularly care who you are. You will leave this property immediately. You have disrupted and disturbed my patients who were perfectly fine before you showed up and you will stop doing it before I call hospital security and have them forcibly remove you in handcuffs!” Vicki actually has the sense to leave when told for once, and as she and “Phil” climb into their van and speed away I look at the nurse in awe. “I don't particularly like reporters, especially invasive ones like that,” she explains as she helps me load Luna and her car seat into my rental correctly.

I quietly offer a “Thank you so much” as I get into the front seat of the car.

“Don't thank me. I would do that for any patient.”

I put the car into reverse and back out of the parking spot. I look at my daughter- it's still nuts, I had a real baby- as I leave the parking garage. She's still whimpering, but not screeching anymore, which is a huge relief.

She falls asleep as we speed down the highway. Her minuscule hands bob and twitch in the air as she snoozes. I idly wonder what she's dreaming about.

Now what am I gonna do?

 

 


	2. bumps in the road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was stuck on this chapter for SIX MONTHS. I hope you're all happy with it, but I welcome constructive feedback at the same time.

Being at “home” (not that I have a particular one right now) alone with a newborn is not the ethereal experience social media moms like to play it up as.

Aren’t babies supposed to sleep for, like, eighteen hours a day? I’m getting skeptical of that so-called fact, because this one sure _doesn’t._ I can’t ever figure out why she’s crying. I feed her, I change her millionth diaper of the day, and she sleeps for five minutes before she starts screaming again. What am I doing wrong?!

“You’re fine, stop crying, please! I don’t know what you want!”

Her face is in a continual state of red twistiness and anger, and I physically _can’t_ calm her down. Nothing is working. I’m seriously considering other options right at this point-

But before I can, there’s a knock at the door of my motel room. Putting Luna down on the bed, I run to open it. Maybe it’s someone who heard her and came to help me?

Nope. No such luck. It’s a cop, and a woman who I assume is the motel owner.

_Shit._

“Sir, we’ve received several noise complaints involving a crying child-” She had calmed down for a second, but Luna chooses _that exact moment_ to start screaming again- “and reports of concerns that said child may be in danger in this room.” Fuck, really? Am I so bad at taking care of my kid that people already think I’m hurting her? She’s not even three days old!

“No, officer, she’s not hurt. She’s just being fussy-” The motel owner talks over me.

“Regardless of whether the kid’s fine or not, you’re losing me money! I’ve had three people check out and demand their money back over your brat!”

“Excuse me?” A strange feeling runs up my spine. My kid isn’t a _brat_ . Why would you call _any_ baby that?

“Excuse you?” She mocks back.

Oh. The feeling is anger. I can’t lose my temper, I have nowhere else to go. I squish the feelings down and try to reason with the owner. “Ma’am, please, just give me a little more time to calm her down!”

“Why should I-”

“Ten minutes.” I’ve changed my mind, this cop is a godsend. “And then I’m going to let the owner of this establishment remove you.” They leave after that, and I shut the door and turn back to Luna, who’s _still_ screaming at the top of her lungs. I pick her back up and try to rock her like they said to in the books, but it’s not helping- in fact, it only seems to be agitating her more.

I look at the clock. Eight minutes left before we get thrown out.

Shit, shit, shit. What am I going to do? Who could possibly help me? I’ve pushed everyone away that could!

Except….

No, he probably wouldn’t answer.

 _Seven minutes._ Fuck it, I’ll try anyways. I pick up my phone, dial a number, and throw it back onto the bed.

It’s two a.m.- what are the chances that he’ll answer? Not high.

A voice mumbles into the phone, “Whoever this is better have a good fucking reason for calling this early in the fuckin’ morning…”

Oh my god. He actually answered.

 _Six minutes_. Fuck, what do I say now that he’s actually answered? “Uh, hey, Jason-”

“Tim?” The voice is way more awake now. “Where the fuck have you been? We’ve been looking for you for months-” I don’t have time for him to be mad at me!

“Y-yeah, I’m sorry, we’ll talk about that later.”

“Are you alright? Is that a fucking baby I hear?” I have to think up a lie, quick.

Bingo. “I, uh, picked up a baby somewhere earlier from a mission and she won’t stop crying and I don’t know what to do, please help me!” It all comes out in a flood, which is kinda embarrassing, but I have five minutes left before I’m out in the cold, and that definitely takes priority right now.

Jason is silent, and for a second I think he hung up on me, but he comes back. “Is she wet? Have you fed her?” I check the diaper (which is significantly difficult to do when wearer of said diaper is flailing like hell). “No, she’s dry, and I fed her half an hour ago- Jason, she’s been crying for hours, what the hell do I do?!”

“Alright, first of all, calm down. If you’re freaking out, she’s gonna freak too.” I try to relax my body as best as I can. It isn’t much, but I manage to get my shoulders down a little. ““Okay. Now, you need to hold her close to you. She's gotta be able to hear your heartbeat, feel your warmth." This is the most sentimental I've ever heard Jason. Where did this come from?

Right, crying baby. No time to complain. "Okay, now what?"

"Now just try rocking her." I've already _tried_ that, but I try it again, and surprise- it still doesn't work, and I tell him so.

"This isn't working at all, oh god-" Now is Not the time to have a panic attack!

 _Four minutes_.

"Shit, uh, did you try singing to her?" It's a nice suggestion- at least it would be, if I had any songs in my head right now.

"What the hell am I gonna sing?" There goes the 'no swearing around the baby' rule. Hell isn't a swear, right?

"Do you remember that French lullaby Alfred used to sing when one of us got hurt on patrol?"

Of _course._ I could never forget the words. I miss the feeling of a hand in my hair while I hear them.

" _L'était une une petite poule grise_

_Qu'allait pondre dans l'église_

_Pondait un p'tit' coco_

_Que l'enfant mangeait tout chaud_ "

Jason echoes me on the next verse as Luna looks up at me, making eye contact for the first time all night. Her face looks a little less twisted up now.

" _L'était une p'tit' poul' noir_

_Qu'allait pondre dans l'armoire_

_Pondait un p'tit' coco_

_Que l'enfant mangeait tout chaud_ "

Is it my brain giving in to the madness, or is she finally quieting down? Two minutes left to make this happen.

“ _L'était une p'tit' poul' rousse_

_Qu'allait pondre dans la mousse_

_Pondait un p'tit' coco_

_Que l'enfant mangeait tout chaud_ ”

Woah. She really _is_ quieting down. She’s only grunting a little now, but I keep singing anyways in case she decides to wind back up again.

“ _L'était une p'tit' poule beige_

_Qu'allait pondre dans la neige_

_Pondait un p'tit' coco_

_Que l'enfant mangeait tout chaud_ ”

Her eyes are closing. She’s falling asleep. Sweet relief, praise whatever god there is, hallelujah!

“ _L'était une p'tit' poule brune_

_Qu'allait pondre sur la lune_

_Pondait un p'tit' coco_

_Que l'enfant mangeait tout chaud._ ”

As we finish singing, Luna has actually fallen into a deep sleep- her face has untwisted itself, and more importantly, she isn’t screaming the whole motel down anymore. She’s so _cute_ when she’s not screaming. I look at the clock one last time:

Saved with _thirty seconds_ to go. Jason truly is an angel. Speaking of him, I haven’t hung up the phone. Fuck.

“Did it work”, he asks me?

“Y-yeah, it did. Thank you. Sorry to wake you up.”

“Nah, you’re good. I’m on my way over, I want to meet this kid. I tracked your phone.”

Wait, _WHAT_ ? No. No, no. There’s a knock on the door _again_ . I put her down, silently praying that she doesn’t wake up again, and head for the door. Jason couldn’t have _possibly_ gotten here that fast, could he?

No, it’s the cop again. I got the baby quiet just in time, it seems. “Everything alright in here, now?”

“Yes, Officer.”

“I’ve tried to reason with the owner of this building, but you’re on thin ice with the lungs on that baby.” Great. I look at my phone and see that Jason has hung up sometime since the cop came back. That means he really _is_ on his way. I thank the cop again (for what, almost leaving me and a newborn out in the cold?) and lay carefully on the bed next to Luna. I haven't slept since the night she was born, which would make it about 40 hours. It isn't a record for me, but it's definitely harder to do with a screaming baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Jason comes to visit.


	3. helpless little fool they must think i am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason visits. Tim comes to some realizations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gEt ReAdY fOr ThE aNgSt, HoEs

Right as I flop down into bed, I realize three things:

  1. I should probably move Luna out of the bed, so I don’t roll over onto her.
  2. I can’t go to sleep, because Jason is coming.
  3. I _really_ have to pee.



All of these things involve getting up, which leads me to another conclusion:

  1. The books weren’t kidding when they said you’d be sore after giving birth. No, sore doesn’t even _begin_ to describe it. Now that I’m not focusing on anything else, my whole lower body is on fucking _fire_! 



It takes me a few minutes, but I manage to roll myself out of bed and onto the floor without jostling Luna too much. 

Wait. The floor? Aw, fuck, I didn’t land on my feet. Now I have to pull myself up again, and it’s even further this time.  _ Fuck! _

_ I’ve fallen, and I can’t get up! _

Okay, no. Now is not the time for memes. 

Hey, there’s a lot of dust down under this bed. When was the last time they cleaned it out? Oh fuck, that’s right, I’m not supposed to be down here. Back to the issue at hand. I have to get myself off of this floor. Not such an easy task, with all the extra baby weight (how the fuck did I gain fifty pounds if she only came out weighing nine?)  _ and _ how sore I am. I start to mentally prepare for the extra pain I’m about to be in and reach one hand up to the edge of the mattress.

“Ow, ow, fuck, ouch, ow.” There goes that rule again. Oh well, she’s asleep. I think. Well, I hope to god she’s still asleep, since I’m not exactly in a position to do anything about it right now. Slowly, I turn myself so that I’m facing the bed, and put my other hand up. Since when is this bed so fucking tall? I can barely reach from down here, but I make it work as I haul myself up inch by inch. 

It takes me several minutes, but I’m finally up off the dusty carpet. Hurrah! I keep an eye on Luna as I locate my ‘bathroom bag’ that the hospital left me with. I thought the baby was supposed to be the one in diapers, not me. These pads are  _ massive _ !

Wait. Baby. I can’t just leave her alone while I’m in the bathroom. I could leave the door open, but what if Jason shows up? That would just be too weird. I don’t want to just plop her on the dirty floor, either. I look around the room for a solution- a blanket? No, she’s already in a blanket. Chair? She could just roll right off and get hurt. Can newborns even roll yet? I’m not gonna test it out, that’s for sure.

Aha! I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner. Must be the exhaustion. I grab her car seat and put it next to her on the bed. I try to undo her swaddle so I can strap her into it, but she’s holding onto the blanket pretty tightly, and I am  _ not _ about to wake her up again over such a simple thing. Instead, I pack her into the car seat, swaddle and all, and carry it all into the bathroom with me.

I finish after about ten minutes of struggling with the spray bottle and pads, and put Luna, in her car seat, down on the carpet next to the bed. Why is it so cold in here? I must have forgotten to turn the heat up when we got here. I grab another blanket off the edge of my bed and drape it over her.

I can’t keep my eyes open by this point. Why was I not supposed to fall asleep again? Can’t remember…

_ Bang. _

**_Bang._ **

Is there a fucking meteor shower happening on the roof of this motel? Meh, I hope Luna sleeps through it. 

“Tim, open up!” 

_ FUCK. _ I totally forgot Jason was coming. How long have I been asleep? No matter, screw it. I jump up and waddle (stupid extra baby weight again) to the door. 

“Tim? Holy shit, where have you been?”

Oh. The exact question I didn’t want to answer. I mean, I don’t want to answer  _ any _ of them, but that one in particular is what I wanted to avoid. “Uh. Around.” 

“Okay then. Where’s the kid?”

“In here.” Oh god, is he gonna make the connection? My waddling, the number of months I’ve been gone… it wouldn’t be hard for him to. As I’ve been losing myself in worries again, Jason has pushed past me and through the doorway of the room. He’s in one of his faux-fur lined jackets. No wonder the room is so cold. I always forget how freezing San Francisco summers are. I close the door and follow him back into the room, passing by the mirror as I do. 

Jeez, I look like shit. My hair is the greasiest it’s ever been and is sticking out in 50 different directions. I’ve got eye bags under my eye bags. My eyes themselves are all red from being awake for so long. I guess I lost a lot of blood while I was giving birth, because even to myself, I look like a ghost. My posture has gone to shit from all the extra weight, and I’m slouched forward a little.

I turn back towards Jason and Luna. He’s kneeling in front of her car seat to get a better look at her as he pushes the top blanket aside. “How long have you had her for?” I do the math. What time is it now? Almost four in the morning? Jesus christ. “A couple days.” He looks over at me, then back to Luna.

_ Please don't catch on yet. I am way too tired to explain this _ . He looks suspicious, but doesn’t say anything yet, and I feel myself release a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “She’s a cute one.” DId Jason eight-heads-in-a-duffel-bag Todd just call my kid  _ cute _ ? I hadn’t realized he was so soft. 

He  _ is _ right. No point in disagreeing with that. “Where did you say you found her again?” Fuck. He knows. I should have come up with a better story. I made an entirely fake person and fooled the  _ Batman _ , but I can’t come up with one lie about a baby? 

“Why were you in California?”

“I have safe houses in every major city in the country, kid. I was here for a mission- big drug bust, selling to kids, all that shiiii- stuff.” Ha. The Red Hood censoring his swears around a baby? That’s one for the books. “You didn’t answer my question. Where did the baby come from?”

“Why does it matter?” Okay, maybe the defensive wasn’t the best option here. 

“Because I want to know!” 

“Confidential. Can’t tell you.” There. I hope that shuts him up about it.

“Why the fuuuu- frick not?!”

I can see it in his eyes- the exact moment he puts it together.

He looks at me, then to Luna, and then back and forth again several times. It’d be comical if I wasn’t so scared. He stands up, and in my panic I almost expect him to call the police or something like that. Haven’t I dealt with them enough tonight?

He comes over to me, and I’m honestly expecting to get shot. I close my eyes, bracing myself for death-

And he smacks me across the back of the head. “Don’t ever lie to me again. You’re blowing up the internet with that video, and the kid looks just like you.” I’m alive?

“Huh?” Wow, that sounded stupid.

“You heard me. I don’t like being lied to.” He looks pissed, but he doesn’t have any weapons in his hands, which is also good. “I had a feeling you’d call. The rest of them are freaking out. That video of you leaving the hospital is all over social media. Vicki Vale doesn’t keep her mouth shut for long.” 

_ Fuck _ . He had already known the whole time, and just wanted me to admit it? That’s petty. I didn’t want any of them to know, and now the whole world does.. “It’s none of their business.”

“Isn’t it, Tim Drake- _ Wayne _ ?”

“I dropped the hyphen the day after Dick replaced me. I don’t want anything to do with them or that lifestyle ever again! I thought you of all people would understand that!” 

Woah. That… came out harsher than I expected. Shit. He opens his mouth, looking more pissed than ever, but I cut him off at the start. “I just…. I want her to have a normal childhood, Jason. One without superheroes and bats and monsters and nightmares. Is that so much to ask for?” 

“So  _ you _ don’t go back to superheroing. You can’t just cut them all off like that.”

“Are you hearing yourself right now?! That’s  _ exactly _ what you did!”

“Yeah, but I had the Pit Madness and hated everyone and couldn’t help it. I’ve started talking to Alfred and Dick again. I don’t know the rest of them. You’re not crazy, Tim. You need to go home.”

“And what are you gonna do about it if I don’t? It’s not your choice!” 

“Then I give Dick the number to that burner phone you called me on,  _ he _ tracks it, and drags you and the kid back to Gotham himself.”

He doesn’t understand. It’s not just the vigilantism I don’t want her around-

It’s  _ them _ . 

It’s  _ me _ .

I don’t want her to grow up always seeing the disappointment in their faces. That Timmy, the little brother, the prodigy, had to go and be a teen parent.

I don’t want to hear Damian’s insults towards her, just because she’s  _ mine _ and he hates me.

I don’t want the media constantly chasing her and I around whenever we’re in public, like they  _ always _ do to us in Gotham.

I think I’m just really fucking sick of it all, and I don’t know whether it’s the hormones or the stress or losing so many people at once, but it takes me a few minutes to realize I’m bawling my fucking eyes out. 

And maybe…. maybe I don’t want her to grow up knowing what a failure of a parent she already has. A dad who couldn’t keep anyone around- my friends, Bruce, Kon… they’re all gone. I couldn’t save them. Robin is supposed to save people, right?

But I’m not Robin anymore. I couldn’t even save that for myself. 

And I realize, as I sit on a dusty motel carpet, that I don’t know what the hell to do without it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess the where the chapter title is from and win a 500 word commission!


	4. and into the night i go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hard truths come to light. Decisions are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to thank one of my best friends for helping me write the majority of this chapter. Saf, you're the best. I was stuck for months at this point in the story, and she came in and made it a masterpiece.

_Two figures slowly stir awake. They're laying in bed together, simply enjoying each other's company and warmth. The smaller one rises first, turning to watch the sunrise peek through the gap in the curtains. It's already shaping up to be a beautifully warm Sunday morning- a little too warm for his tastes. Reaching to the nightstand, he fumbles with a remote for a moment until he locates the right button, and the air conditioning activates near silently, washing a cool breeze over the room._

_He turns back to the sunrise for a few minutes, simply reminiscing on his luck to be here, until a pair of strong arms wrap around his torso and a head rests on his shoulder. The head turns, pressing a pair of lips against his neck, and he sighs with pleasure._

_They stay like this for another few minutes, sharing quiet kisses and declarations of love, until suddenly the arms around him stiffen and drop._

_“What's wrong?” He receives no answer, so he turns to find the problem himself, and suddenly the dream is a nightmare once again-_

_Conner lies next to him, dead under a pile of rubble. The wood and dirt soil the bed sheets, rapidly turning everything brown as Tim screams, cries, begs him to wake up-_

I wake up screaming again, just like I have every day for the last seven months. I have to admit that I'm getting pretty sick of the same nightmare over and over again. Why won't my brain let me get through this?

“Holy shit, kid, are you alright?”

Fuck. Of course Jason didn't leave when I passed out. In fact, it doesn't look like he plans on leaving any time soon. Luna is in his arms, dressed in a different onesie and sucking down a bottle. Jason himself is looking at me with some weird expression I'm already not in the mood to decipher. I realize that he must have put me into bed after I cried myself out on the floor last night, which is embarrassing enough already.

Ignoring him, I haul myself out of bed (without rolling this time) and into the bathroom to start the process again. Pee, spray bottle, pad- fuck, I forgot to shower before I did all this. No point in wasting a pad. A shower can wait.

“Hey, Replacement, you didn’t answer my question.”

I ignore him. I have better things to focus on- like leaving. With all the events of last night, staying here doesn’t seem like a great idea.

“Jason, listen, I appreciate what you helped me with last night, but I have to go,” I say, trying not to appear frantic. This is already way too close for comfort, it’s only a matter of time before everyone else catches on. My stomach tightens suddenly at the thought of being at the mercy of my family’s judgement, no matter how well-meaning it might be.

Jason’s eyes are hard, but his posture is relaxed and unbothered, which is probably why Luna looks so at peace in his arms. “Look, shhhiiiizstick,” he says, voice rough around the edges, “there is absolutely no way I’m leaving you alone with this baby. You’re gonna get her, yourself, or both of you hurt. For god’s sakes, you can’t just not tell them.”

“Watch me,” I reply, reaching out to take my daughter back to her makeshift cradle. Jason doesn’t fight me, but does help me get her settled. Once she’s calm and tucked in, he sits on the bed beside me. I don’t look at him.

“Okay, I’m about to go full Boyle on my emotions and get some things straight,” he says finally. I don’t reply. “First of all, I think I know who the father is, and I think that’s half the reason you haven’t told anyone. It’s--” he cuts himself off, smart move, “it was Conner, wasn’t it?”

Damn, he’s good, but that’s hardly surprising, considering our mentor. I nod silently.

“Alright. Supertwink was the baby daddy. Obvious.”

If I wasn’t still so hurt by Kon’s death, I might have laughed.

“Baby is hidden because you’re afraid of disappointment from the rest of the family, so you’re hiding out here, living under a false name, paying for all your shit with cash, and successfully not interacting.”

“It’s not just disappointment,” I speak up at last, turning to face him. To my surprise, he looks open, gentle even, and his eyes are soft with understanding. “Jason, I don’t want her near what we had to do. I can’t stand her being round that, not until she’s ready. And I--” I choke on a sob I didn’t know I had coming-- “I can’t stand to be the ‘Wayne that went wrong,’ Jay. Damian will never stop mocking her, Dick will never see her as an equal member of our family and you and I both know he’ll be furious, Alfred will just be ashamed, and the rest of the Titans will never speak to me again anyway.” I look up at him imploringly, my eyes wet with tears. “Jason, please. I need to stay here.”  
Jason sighs, then stands up.

“I’ll make a deal with you,” he says finally. “You stick with me, Kori and Roy for the time being.” I open my mouth to protest, but he covers the base for me. “I know you don’t want her around that, so we’ll make sure she won’t be. We have a safehouse up in Washington state, we’ll have to be up there for a while to meet with an associate of ours. You can stay there with us. No shop talk, no guns, no arrows, no starbolts. Just the four of us and your weird, superpowered bundle of joy.”

I swallow around the lump in my throat. “No word about me to anyone in Gotham?”

“Absolutely none unless you authorize it.”

I mull it over for a hot second. A safehouse in Washington: far away, likely secluded, a safe place for me to raise my baby. I stand up--with some difficulty, I’m ashamed to admit--and reach out my right hand.

“Consider it done,” I say, and Jason’s resulting smile almost splits his face in half. He grabs my hand and uses it to pull me into a hug--a hug from the Red Hood, of all things!--and suddenly, the world doesn’t feel quite so mean and cold anymore.

My brother cares enough about me, his replacement, to take care of my newborn daughter and I until I can actually grow a pair (and man, wouldn’t that be nice?) and talk to the rest of our family. He’s letting me stay with him and his two datemates--bizarre and eccentric, but wonderful in their own rights--to keep my baby safe.

Suddenly overcome, I wrap my arms around my brother, and he holds me a little bit tighter. His hug almost reminds me of Bruce--

I stop that train of though at the speed of light and bury my head in his shoulder. “Thank you,” I manage, trying not to cry again. “Honestly, Jason, thank you so much.”  
He squeezes me a little bit more and ruffles my hair, which can’t be pleasant based on how gross it feels, yet he valiantly does it anyway. “It’s what I’m here for, lil brother,” he says, the harsh edges gone, and for the first time in months, I feel safe.

For the first time in seven months, I don’t feel alone.

 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what song the chapter title came from and win a 500 word drabble.


End file.
